


Three Sentence Ficathon 2013 Fills - Historical RPF Division

by ViaLethe



Series: Three Sentence Ficathon 2013 [4]
Category: 12th Century CE RPF, 13th Century CE RPF, 15th Century CE RPF, Ancient Egyptian RPF, Classical Greece and Rome History & Literature RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: 3 Sentence Fiction, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 00:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViaLethe/pseuds/ViaLethe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various Historical RPF fills of mine from the 2013 Three Sentence Ficathon, with original prompts included.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To Endure

_Prompt: Ancient World History, Hatshepshut, persistence of memory_

 

They chisel away her images and her name, try to make her forbidden, forgotten, vanished.

But the forbidden is a lure, and the land has a long memory, and even things buried by the sands may come to light again in time.

She will not be destroyed.


	2. Two Plus One

_Prompt: Historical RPF, Octavian/Mark Antony/Lepidus, hatesex_

 

"I still despise you, you know," Octavian says, arranging the folds of his toga.

"Thank the gods," Antony responds, still reclining on the couch, "as the feeling is entirely mutual."

 _I've never liked either of you_ , Lepidus thinks to say, but he watches the way the other two glare at each other and knows the only response he's like to receive is, _Oh, are you still here?_


	3. Webs and Snares

_Prompt: Historical RPF, Octavian/Lepidus, accidental marriage_

 

"It was an accident to marry my sister to Antony," Octavian says in the darkness, his fingers still absently stroking Lepidus's arm, and Lepidus rolls his eyes at the phrasing, noting that _accident_ is not the same at all as _mistake_.

Octavian rises and lights a lamp, the better to dress himself as he continues, "I only meant to bind him more closely, but it's turning into quite a disaster."

Lepidus watches him leave, and does not need to ask the question in his mind of just how much of this is Octavian's way of binding him.


	4. The Whole World Over

_Prompt: anyone, anyone, "the truth is this: / my love for you / is the only empire i will ever build" (Ancient Rome RPF, Octavian/Agrippa)_

 

"Why don't you take it?" Octavian asks drowsily, honest with wine and sleep as he rarely is awake and sober. "You could; you won it, after all, as everyone knows."

Agrippa sighs, and pulls him closer, murmuring, "Because it's all for you."


	5. What Holds Us Together

_Prompt: Historical RPS, Octavian/Agrippa, all we are is skin and bones/trained to get alone (Taylor Swift)_

 

"You've been hurt," Octavian says, and Agrippa can't quite hear if he's truly concerned or merely annoyed, or perhaps a bit of both, as usual.

"Only a scratch," he replies, looking down at the red line across his arm, though it stings with dust and grit and sweat.

Octavian's fingers are cool as he slides them over the broken skin, pale white (he's always so pale, no matter how bright the sun in the places they campaign) staining red as they go, the two of them mingling into one.


	6. I Will Not Sink, But Rise Instead

_Prompt: Historical RPF, Cleopatra, I will go down with this ship/I won't put my hands up/and surrender (Dido, "White Flag")_

 

She fingers the lid of the basket and thinks; she knows what Octavian will say of her if she does this thing (because she knows Octavian, far better than he ever knew her, or cared to), knows he will call her coward, say she feared the might of Rome (she remembers Antony's blood on her hands, the confusion in his eyes, and knows if anything, it is the foolishness of Rome, its belief in honor and tradition that has undone her), that she was forced to flee to the one place he could not follow.

Still, she knows this is all the choice that remains to her, to end her life on her own terms, as she has always lived it.

 _Death is no surrender_ , she thinks, lifting the basket lid and plunging her hand inside, _only a new beginning_.


	7. Like Birds Around the Grave

_Prompt: Ancient World History, Cleopatra ( & Hypatia, if you don't mind the timey-wimey-ness), "“If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need.” _

 

“This is not entirely what I'd expected from the afterlife,” Cleopatra says, looking around the lush garden, covered in a riot of colors, with the soft sounds of running water and birdsong playing in her ears.

From her couch, Hypatia laughs, and gestures languidly towards the walls surrounding the greenery, lined with scrolls and books beyond count, and says, “With all this beauty around us, and knowledge of the ages at our fingertips, what more could you desire?”

Cleopatra stretches, and thinks, feeling the blood shift under her skin, and says thoughtfully, “Men?” and delights at Hypatia's clear, sweet laughter, and at her response of, “Oh, don't worry about _them_ , darling – they'll be along just as soon as they finish their favorite activity of congratulating one another on their illustrious lives.”


	8. A Crusade

_Prompt: The Lion in Winter OR Medieval English History, Henry II/Eleanor of Aquitaine, I marvel at you_

 

"Bare breasted?" Henry murmurs, closely inspecting the parts in question.

"Like the Amazons of old," Eleanor responds, threading her fingers into the red of his hair, "and Louis may not have appreciated it, but his troops damn well did."

Henry looks up at her with something halfway between lust and amazement in his face, and says, "If I go to war with France, will you ride along?" and she laughs and pushes his head further down, and marvels that this man could possibly be so perfect.


	9. Halcyon Days These Could Be

_Prompt: Medieval History, Llewelyn ap Gruffydd/Ellen de Montfort , the myth of Ceyx and Alcyone_

 

He takes her walking along the riverbank, and she marvels at the wild beauty of his country – now that she is finally here, she understands why he fights so hard for it, the passion that ties him to the land – nearly as much as she marvels at him, at the turn her life has finally, _finally_ taken.

He stills her suddenly with a hand on her arm and a finger to her lips (oh, how she loves that he finally has the right to touch her) and points to a small hollow in the bank, where a bright little kingfisher sits in its nest - _at peace_ , she thinks, _like us, hidden away in its tiny corner of the earth, safe and sound_ , and she knows this isn't true (she's known nowhere was safe since the night her father died, and her cousin began to haunt her dreams), but just for now, just for this moment, she wants desperately to believe it can be.

Her lips curve beneath his fingers, and she guides his other hand to her belly, watching his eyes light up in understanding and joy, and prays _please, please_.


	10. For a Crown

_Prompt: RPF-Richard III; "It's a Tudor plot."_

 

"You say that about everything, Uncle," Elizabeth says, shaking her head slowly, and he can't stand the way she looks at him, her eyes huge and full of unshed tears; if she began to look at him with fear, he thinks he could not possibly bear it. "What of your wife Anne, was her death a Tudor plot as well?"

His eyes close against the sting of her words, and he knows then that she does not fear him, not at all - but perhaps she should, for he clearly can't keep them safe; not his beloved Anne, not his nephews in the Tower, and even this sweet girl in her sanctuary - all he can do is hope, and pray God he's not yet been abandoned by all.


	11. Our Brother, the Donkey

_Prompt: I suspect a particularly clever donkey could have outwitted George (Historical RPF, York brothers)_

 

“George, that...is not your horse,” Richard said, trying manfully to hold back his laughter.

George peered at him suspiciously, leaning on the animal for support, one hand loosely clutching a goblet of wine, and said, “Don't be a fool, little brother – I think I know my own horsh when I shee him.”

“You ass,” Edward responded, rolling his eyes, “that is, in fact, an ass you're leaning on, and unless I'm highly mistaken, you did not ride that creature into battle – also, he is drinking from your wine.”


	12. I Will Wait for You

_Prompt: Medieval English History, Richard III/Anne Neville, He lives that loves thee better than [Edward] could._

 

"Dead?" she repeats foolishly, unable to believe she is now a widow, that they haven't perhaps mixed up the Edwards, though hers and Richard's are little enough alike.

But _Yes_ , she hears, and, _killed by the brother, they say, the hunchbacked one, devil take him_ , and then, oh _then_ Anne believes it.

She sinks to her knees in thanks, thinking of Richard's crooked shoulders and powerful arms, and shivers, and prays for the patience to wait.


	13. As It Might Have Been

_Prompt: Medieval English History, Richard III/Anne Neville, we are young_

 

"What will it be like when we are married, do you think?" Anne asks, tiny and delicate as a bird, perched on the window seat of her mother's solar, her little feet swinging under the edge of her skirt.

Richard can hear the clamor of the other boys rising up from the training yard; he knows he will be mocked if found here, yet he can't bring himself to care - Anne is much better company that any of the boys, even at her tender age.

"Why, it will be splendid, my lady," he says, stretching and trying to ignore the pain in his back that seems to grow every day, grateful that he does not need to ignore Anne's look, because she alone never seems to notice the way his shoulders twist more with each month, each inch that he grows, "and we will be the happiest people in all the realm, and have a dozen plump children," and Anne giggles, and shyly takes his hand in hers.


	14. Rarely I Weep, Sometimes I Must

_Prompt: Medieval English History, Richard III/Anne Neville, we are young [Second fill]_

 

He finds her in tears in her bedchamber, heaving with gasping sobs, and when he kneels at her feet and asks in that sad, desperate voice what has happened, the only word she can manage to choke out is a soft, "Blood."

All in a moment, his face clears, and he smiles gently at her, stroking her cheek and saying, "But we are young still, my dear Anne - there will be other babes yet, you'll see, and no need to weep over your woman's blood so."

He is called away then, and leaves with a kiss pressed to her cheek; she manages a tremulous smile for him and clutches her hand tighter around her bloodied handkerchief, trying to breathe deeply, trying not to cough again, trying desperately to keep her secret from him just a little longer.


	15. I Pray for Home (and Home Is You)

_Prompt: Medieval History, Richard/Anne Neville, journeys end in..._

 

When she hears that he has fled across the Channel in Edward's wake (always in Edward's wake, but she must not be bitter, even as she thinks on Isabel and knows she will never, ever understand that bond), she tries to pray, but ends in silence on her knees, uncertain whether to pray for his return or his safety; she knows the two to be incompatible.

When he hears of her marriage, he keeps his silence (Edward expects him to rage and shout, to curse Warwick and the Lancasters to the deepest depths of hell, because this is what Edward himself would do), and flees all company, ending up somehow in a dingy chapel on his knees, unsure whether to pray that she is happy or that she is not; either would break his own heart.

When they are married, it is all a blur to both, the quiet ceremony and supper, the shy smiles and glances they are finally free to exchange in the chapel, on their knees before the altar; in their marriage bed afterward, they face each other kneeling once more with whole hearts, and begin the process of healing one another, one sweet touch at a time.


	16. Don't Believe Me When I Say I Don't Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one is four sentences...oops.

_Prompt: Medieval History, Richard III/Anne Neville, modern AU_

 

They'd known each other forever (he remembers her from family gatherings as a little girl with huge eyes, a kitten in one arm and a book in the other), but when he met up with her again in college ( _of course_ she wrote poetry, and he cringes to remember how he'd laughed at that, secure in his poli sci program) it was different somehow, and soon he'd been spending more time in her room than his apartment.

But that was years ago now (years that seemed like decades), and now that he's face to face with her for the first time since, backstage at the second debate while his brother crushes her husband in front of the crowds, he can think of only one thing to say: "Why, Anne, just tell me _why_."

Her eyes are still huge, even as they won't quite meet his, but her voice is steady enough as she says, "My father...after yours died, and you had to run, we thought you'd never come back from that, and I was..." she shakes her head and bites her lip before going on, but her hand drifts over her abdomen, and _there's no way_ , he thinks, but some part of him knows it could be, "it doesn't matter now, but Edward, he was willing, and my father said I would be ruined, I didn't have a choice..."

Everything in Richard hardens, and his fingers curl into a fist as he says, "My brother will wipe the floor with the Lancasters, and when we've won this election, I'll take care of your father," and then he leaves her before he can say more, before the rage in him can spill over onto her; the York brothers have learned the lessons the Lancasters and Warwicks have taught them all too well, and he has a few calls to make, deals to broker; maybe he doesn't have time for it now, but he'll get Anne back in the end, at any cost.


End file.
